Temptations of Evil
by Nefertari Membarak
Summary: Robert Langdon travels to Egypt for a conference held by famed Egyptologist Dr. Zahi Hawass. Egyptian Islamic Jihad are blamed when the Egyptologist and others go missing. While suspecting that he might get kidnapped himself, Robert meets up with...(r&r)
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:**  
Robert Langdon travels to Egypt for a conference held by famed Egyptologist Dr. Zahi Hawass. Egyptian Islamic Jihad are blamed when the Egyptologist and others go missing. While suspecting that he might get kidnaped himself, Robert meets up with Egyptologist Indiya Becker to find the missing historians. In their search they uncover truths about some of the bibles oldest of stories, the mystery of the Atlantis Ring, and a new political uprising taking place in the world. 

**Quick Authors note:**  
I know that so many people are using Egyptian history in fanfics and stories, but I hope you will still read this. I can assure you I've done my research (and I hope that it will prove itself).I will also bring up a number of Political issues. In the review section you are allowed to express your opinion, but remember, this is a work of fiction. I hope you read and enjoy. (And I hope you don't find any Mary Sue in this story)

**Disclaimer:  
**I do not own any of Dan Brown's original characters (Robert Langdon, Sophie, etc.). I also have no association with the following Egyptologists; Zahi Hawass, Mark Lehner, and Kent Weeks. I also have no affiliation with any Political figures or journalist that might be mentioned.

I do, however, know Fr. Paul Trinchard and speak with him occasionally. He does not know of me writing this, but I hope to convey his thoughts accordingly. I've done my best to do the research and get the facts right. If there are any mistakes that you see, please point them out and I will do my best to fix them.

ENJOY!

**_Temptations of Evil_**

_A sequel to THE DA VINCI CODE_

_by: Nefertiti Membarak_

**Chapter 1**

"Good Evening," spoke Dr, Zahi Hawass, with his accented English.

"Good Evening," said the man at the other end. His accent was one that Dr. Hawass could not place. "This is Dr. Zahi Hawass, that I am speaking to, am I correct?"

"Yes, this is he," Dr. Hawass replied. "May I ask who it is I am speaking to?"

"This is Bradley Ruckford, calling from the British Museum," the man's voice stiffened in a prestigious manner. "Tomorrow, I will be attending your Conference on the Preservation of the Egyptian Tombs. As you probably know, us at the British Museum hold very high respects for history, and want to do all we can to savor it for centuries to come. I was hoping I could buy you breakfast before the conference, so that we could have a discussion between...well, two historians."

"That's very generous of you," said Dr. Hawass. His hands was scratching at the papers on his desk out of habit. His clock read 9:37, Cairo time. It had been a long day of research and he could feel the toll of it on his eyelids. "I would enjoy that, but I already promised a friend of mine that I would meet him in the morning."

"Who is this friend," said the man. Dr. Hawass could sense the curiosity in his voice. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Robert Langdon," Dr. Hawass said. "He is a Symbology Professor at Harv-"

"Ah, yes," the man interrupted. "I've heard of this man, Robert Langdon, many times. He would be an interesting person to meet. Maybe I could join you?"

Dr. Hawass hesitated for a moment, "I guess we could make that arrangement. I'm sure Robert won't mind."

Dr. Hawass gave Ruckford the location and they said their goodbye's.

Zahi usually didn't retire to bed this early, but tonight would have to be an exception. He needed all the rest he could get for the day that would come.

As Zahi put away his many documents and books back to their normal places, her shut the light off to his study and walked into his bedroom.

"Tomorrow will be a good day," he said, as he sat on his bed. "A day of talk, old friend, and above all...history."


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2_**

Robert Langdon looked at his watch with earnest will. 2:37, Mickey told him. He looked up at the classroom before him.

"Yeah, John," he said, calling on the boy with his hand raised.

"I don't understand," the boy said, leaning back. He moved his hands in front of him, in a way a politician would. " I mean, the Sumerians, and the Fertile Crescent, and all were sort of the first to actually be civilized. They had cuneiform and all of that, but we don't hear about that nearly as much as we do other civilizations. Aren't they important?"

"You hear about them all the time," replied Langdon. He felt like he had been answering the same question all day. "You can't say you haven't heard of 'an eye for an eye', Hammurabi's code. If you haven't heard of that, then how the hell did you get into this school?"

"Yeah, but that's from the bible," said a girl in the front row, who Langdon understood to be a Theology major.

"Yes, it was adapted for the bible," said Langdon, shedding the urge to check his watch again. "And you have no doubt heard the oldest story to man kind, the _Epic of Gilgamesh_.."

"Giga-who?" asked the same girl. "I've never heard of him."

"Yes, you have," said Langdon. "Maybe you have heard of him referred to as Noah."

"Noah's Ark?" asked a boy in the back.

"Would anybody care to share the story?" asked Langdon. The same girl in the front raised her hand. Robert pointed to her.

"Well, the Lord wanted to change what man had become so he decided to flood the earth. He asked Noah to create the ark so that he and his family could survive the flood. He also asked that he bring two of every creature, male and female, onto the ark. And it rained for forty days and forty nights, and-"

Robert raised his hand. "That's enough, I think we get the gist of the story." He glanced down at his watch again, 2:44. "_The Epic of Gilgamesh_ is quite similar to the story. It is, in fact, where the story of Noah derived from. In Ancient Mesopotamia the Sumerians view on life was that the way they lived on earth would be their heaven, because once their time ended, they would be sent to the underworld, where they believed to be a miserable place.

"Just like in Egypt, they had the annual flooding of the rivers, and it would cause huge destruction upon the people who lived nearby, and this was the source of death for most people. But of course, they had to live there, because that was their source for life. So it was a lose-lose situation, either way you look at it. Well, there was a man named Gilgamesh who thought he would defy the gods by showing he could survive the great floods. So he built a boat and gathered his family, and he survived. Believing that he defied the gods. But, we all know, that eventually, man must die, and so did he, while he did defy the gods on that stage, he couldn't live the eternal life that he wished for."

"But Noah didn't want to defy God," said the girl. "God chose him to be the survivor, and-"

"That is what the bible says," said Langdon. "But the bible has been written and rewritten many of times. During the middle ages, monks used to sit in churches all day copying the bible, over and over again. Mistakes are made. And not to mention the countless other things that the have happened to take information from-"

"You're wrong," the girl said. "The bible is the word of the Lord. This "_Epic of Gilgamesh_" is just someone else's interpretation of it."

"But it is not, because there was no one to interpret it, because it was the first. Gilgamesh was the first literature character ever to be known to man."

"But-."

The bell rang. Langdon couldn't have timed it more perfectly. As students began to file out of the classroom, the girl whom had rejected the idea of Gilgamesh gave him a menacing look, and he heard her utter the words; "dropping this class". He gave her a smile as she walked past him, and she looked away.

As the last person filed out of the room, Langdon grabbed his brief case and checked his watch, yet again. 3:02, it read. He had a 28 minutes to catch his plane at Logan International Airport.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 3_**

Langdon handed his ticket to the lady behind the counter. Her smile must have been stuck on auto, because even as she spoke, the corners of her lips never faltered.

"Enjoy your flight," she said.

Langdon nodded and headed down the hallway to board the plane. As he walked down the passage he felt as though weights were being picked off of his shoulders. He felt relieved to be leaving work and everything behind, even if it was just for this short period of time.

He found his seat, next to the window, and sat. He placed his briefcase on the pull table before him, having already dropped off his luggage at the luggage check-in. He turned to look out of the window. It was an overcast day, which made a perfect fit.

Langdon was never one to be caught in a state of despair, but these last few weeks had played a tole on him. He needed a break from the reality of his life, which was becoming more evident by the day. He needed to go and learn something, so that he could open his mind again.

One harsh reality of the past few weeks was a phone call from Sophie Neveu. It had been about seven months since that whirlwind of events that happened in Paris. Upon leaving Sophie, so that she could reunite with her family, they promised they would meet up in Florence the next month. And so they did, and they met up again in London a month after that, and in Cologne about a month in a half after that. And then two weeks ago, she called him and told him that she would not be meeting with him in Cairo, like he had hoped. She also said that maybe meeting each other every month in a different location wasn't good ground rules for a relationship.

The conversation only made Langdon realize more his confinement to bachelorhood. He tried with Vittoria, and then Sophie, but it looked as though it was inescapable. He was condemned to live the single life until the end of his days.

He caught his reflection in the thick glass of the window. _Look at yourself_, he thought. It seemed he'd aged a decade in a month. No wonder Sophie decided to stop while she could. The grey hair growing around his temples had stretched farther back into his thick brown hair. His blue eyes had become clouded, and blank. He looked as if he was lost, and hadn't smiled in months.

Hopefully, the next few days would brighten his spirits, and pick up his enthusiasm. It had been three years since he had last seen the world renowned Egyptologist Dr. Zahi Hawass, and he was looking forward to a good conversation. He had always enjoyed listening to Dr. Hawass' input on things, he felt he always had something to learn.

And that is what this trip was for, above other things. It was about listening and not preaching, for once. There would be no wild goose chases or treasure hunts, just history. And what better place to enjoy history than dunes that surrounded the Nile.

A loud _ding_ sounded overhead.  
"Good day to you all. I would like to ask you to begin to make yourself secure. Our departure for Cairo will be in 3 minutes time."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_"How did they do it?" an eight year old Robert, sat with his head and arms slumped onto the ornate office desk of his father._

_"Who did what?" His farther glanced up momentarily, and then looked back down at the papers he was thumbing through._

_"The Egyptians?" said Langdon again, sensing his father agitation, but he didn't want to leave. "That's what we've been talking about. How did they build the pyramids?"_

_"I dunno," said his father, sighing with frustrations. "The UFO's did it. I'm sure there is a book you can go read. Would you mind, I really must finish this," his father looked up. "Please?"_

_Robert smiled, and nodded in failure. He picked his head up off the desk, and walked away, out of the room, where he couldn't be a bother._

* * *

Langdon jumped as he felt something push him in the back. Coming back from sleep and into reality, he realized it must have been his dream that woke him up, because nothing was touching his back but the seat. 

The silence in the plane was calm and surreal against the buzzing of the engine. Langdon rubbed his eyes, and glanced at his watch, it read 9:56. Doing the calculations, Langdon guessed that must be 4:56, Cairo time.

Langdon felt that same kick into his back that woke him up. "What-" He shot a look upward, at instinct, and came face to face with a strawberry blonde little girl who was resting her arms on the head of Landon's chair. She must have been kicking at the seat.

"Hello," she said, in a bright voice. Her crystal clue eyes gazing at him with the curiosity that all youth have.

"Good evening," Langdon replied, feeling glad he hadn't finished that last sentence.

"You've been sleeping for a very long time," she said, scrunching her face in a matter of fact way.

"Have I?" asked Langdon, trying to act surprised at this astonishing statement. Langdon hoped he had slept a long time. He always found it difficult to adjust to time change, and this would be no exception.

"Can I see your watch?" she said, reaching her hand over his seat, towards his wrist. Langdon looked down in response. He lifted his arms so that the girl could look at Mickey spinning his arms.

"I love Pluto," she said, scratching at the glass, as if she was trying to pick Mickey out of his cage. Langdon smiled at the comment, which referred not only to the Disney Character but also Greek god of the underworld. _You would be a first_, Langdon thought.

"Can I have this," the little girl said, attempting to pull the watch off his wrist.

"Uh, maybe I should hold onto it," said Langdon, attempting to gently take his hand away from her.

"But-"

"Catherine, what are you doing?" a voice sounded overhead. "I'm so sorry, sir." said a woman who now became visible over Langdon's head. She pulled her daughter off the seat. "You know how children get, especially with sitting for such a long time."

"It's quite alright," he said.

As the woman sat back down, out of Landon's view. Langdon again found himself alone. He readjusted his tweed jacket around him, which he had taken off to use as a makeshift blanket. With growing problems in the airline industry and constant threats of bankruptcy, they had refrained from handing out any pillows or blankets.

_I am so predictable_, Langdon thought, as he fumbled with the material and looked at the rest of his attire.

He glanced to the idle seat next to him, which was another sign of airline problems. There were several seats around him that were empty. It seemed no one wanted to take the risk anymore. No sense of adventure?

Langdon glanced back at his watch, 10:03. He adjusted it so that it read 5:03, Cairo Time.

Langdon glanced out of the window and down below. There was miles upon miles of desert stretched out beneath them. _Anytime now_, he thought.

"Hello," said a thick accent, to his side. Langdon sat up straight in his seat and turned. The once empty seat beside him had now become occupied. The man stretched forth his hand. "Robert Langdon?"

"Yes," Robert choked a reply. He shook the mans hand. "And you are?"

"Johannis Venghram," he replied. He was a man who's age was difficult to place. His grey receding hair, didn't contrast to well with his tawny colored skin. His bright eyes glared at him through his round, silver framed glasses. "It is a pressure to meet you."

"And you as well," said Langdon in reply. He knew Venghram's name through his extensive studies on connections of Mythology in the Mediterranean region.

"It appears we are both going to Cairo," he said.

"Yes," Langdon replied. He took this time to make himself presentable by putting his jacket back on. "I can imagine you are eager to speak with Dr. Hawass?"

"Yes," Venghram replied. "I am also looking forward to discussions with the Dr. Kent Weeks. It has been years since we worked together at the University of Chicago. Present day, I am associated with Universität Hamburg. And you, Harvard, am I correct?"

"Yes," Langdon replied, letting Venghram carry on the conversation, which he seemed to be fine with doing.

"You know, I happened to be in France at Université de Paris-Sorbonne, when you had your little escapade," Venghram chuckled as he said this. "I didn't believe it for a second. I thought the worst you could have done was to try and sneak out an artifact."

"Someone is always looking for another to blame," said Langdon, trying to make light of the situation, remembering his "escapade" all to well.

"So, are you nervous?" He spoke, leaning a bit closer as if discussing a secret.

"What should I be nervous about?" asked Langdon.

"What should you be nervous about?" He laughed, giving him a comical glance. "You are an American about to go into the belly of the beast. Ever since your war, well-" he stopped. "I wont get myself into politics. As long as you don't blame me for being German, I wont blame you for your mistakes either."

"It is too early to say anything was a mistake," said Langdon. "Or a success." He had always tried to refrain himself from speaking on present day political issues. It seemed like there was a different opinion at every turn.

"Optimism, eh?" he replied.

Langdon shrugged. A familiar_ ding_ sounded overhead. "Ladies in Gentlemen, we will be arriving at Cairo International Airport in 15 minutes time. We ask you to remain seated, and we hope you enjoyed you flight."

"Well, if we do get killed," Venghram turned to him. "At least we will be in a land where we can live forever."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was only 5:45 and André could since today was going to be a hot one. _Nothing could possibly be happening today,_ he thought to himself as he looked out through his hotel window at the city of Cairo.

Over his shoulder he heard the ringing of his cell phone. He picked it up and look at the name of the caller. He sighed, and took the call. _"Que voulez-vous?"_

"Don't act like that," said the man on the other end, his thick Brooklyn accent vibrated against André's ear.

_"Et pourquoi pas?"_ asked André falling into the nearest chair. He stared into the room, which began to brighten with the rising of the sun. "Nothing is going on here, there is nothing to be excited about."

"Nothing to be excited about?" His editor made a grunt of a noise. "Yeah, Mubarak announcing he is going to have free election, there is nothing exciting about that."

"You say this every time," André sat up in his chair. "This isn't even my permanent location. I'm just here temporarily. Why should I commit myself to anything here when I know I'll be leaving at anytime."

"Because you are a journalist and it is your job to get the story, no matter what it is," said his editor, Mike Pane.

_"Justé,"_ André replied.

"Now, you've got the paper, or mail, or whatever they call it?" said Pane.

"Yes," said André, reaching for it on the nearby table.

"Good," Pane said. "What you should be looking for is on the bottom left of the front page."

André scanned the page, and fixated on the article. He read from left to right, and figured the translation from Arabic to French, and then to English.

"_Non!_ There is no way you are sending me to cover this boring merde that you wont even have me write about," André threw down the paper.

"You didn't finish reading it," said Pane. "Guess who is going to be there?

_"Qui?"_ asked André.

"Robert Langdon," said his editor. "You-"

"No, I am drawing the line there," André stood to his feet and walked to the window, shaking his sandy brown hair away from his eyes.

"Come on, André," said Pane. "You know this guy is a story."

_A story?_ Andre thought to himself. It sure was a story when you sent a newbie reporter to literally stalk him when he was in London a few months ago. From what André heard, it took some heavy persuading to try and get him not to file anything against them.

"Mahmoud Abass is a story," said André. "Robert Langdon is not."

"Just go alright," said Pane. "Do you want to go back to working for a french newspaper or do you want to stay with _Time International_?"

_At least I had more dignity with Paris Normandié,_ André thought.

"Just go," said Pane. "You might learn something."

_"D'accord."_ André hung up the phone, and picked up the paper from the floor. "I am beginning to hate this man, Robert Langdon," he told himself.


	6. Chapter 6

_Note: No one is reviewing. Is it really that bad? Lol._

**Chapter 6**

Langdon and Venghram stood waiting for their luggage in the Cairo International Airport. The aroma of Egyptian Musk surrounded them with a warm welcome. He felt himself coming back into his own, being in this atmosphere.

The people around them were sparse. After all, it was only 6:23 in the morning. Langdon spotted his luggage, and walked closer to the moving belt to pick it up. It was a single leather bag, filled with the essentials. Nothing more, nothing less.

"The Ramses Hilton?" asked Venghram as they exited the airport, and found the nearest driver.

"Well, it's near the museum," said Langdon, putting his bag in the trunk. He then took Venghram's and did the same.

"May I ask you something, Mr. Langdon?" said Venghram, as they sat in the back seat of the car. His eyes were fixated on the seat in front of him.

"Please, call me Robert," Langdon replied.

Venghram turned and looked at him. "Have you ever heard of the Atlantis Ring?"

"Yes, a few times," said Langdon. He tried to keep himself from talking much about it in class. There was always a student who felt it had ties to 'The Lord of the Rings', and then felt like they had the duty to explain the_ whole_ story to the class.

The Atlantis Ring was founded by French Egyptologist Marquis d'Argain, while he was in the Valley of the Kings. The ring, several thousand years old, was adorned with geometric ornaments which were placed and balanced according to some very special arrangement. According to d'Argain, the ring originated in the ancient city of Atlantis. He later handed it down to fellow Egyptologist Howard Carter. Howard Carter was the only person who didn't die after excavating Tutankhamen's tomb. And he just happened to be wearing that ring at the time. It is written that the ring will protect all of those who have it in their possession, from danger and peril. It's whereabouts to this day are unknown.

"It is mysterious is it not?" Venghram continued. "I mean, or course, people will remark that it is just a ring, but..." he paused. "It has a history."

Langdon watched the expression on Venghram become puzzled, and he couldn't understand why. Twenty minutes ago the man was telling Langdon that they might get killed, and now he was talking about magical rings. It was just an odd conversational transition. _Maybe I should just stick to your writing and not you personally_, Langdon thought.

For the rest of the ride, Langdon tried to bring up conversation, but it seemed the once talkative Venghram had switched places with someone while he wasn't looking. So Langdon gave up, and instead gazed out the window at the beautiful city passing by. In the far distance he could see the very top of the Pyramid of Giza. It was almost like West meets East, when it came to technology meets history. He knew that would be one topic Dr. Hawass would discuss reverently in the conference today. The Egyptologist had always disagreed with putting things like hotels so close to the Pyramids. He said it was, "like dropping salt into water. It would soon dissolve and be lost forever."

They had arrived at the hotel in quick time. The two men split the cost of the drive, and made their way to the check-in desk, where Langdon did his best to understand the girl behind the counter.

"S'you are een rum tea far e to," she said, handing him the key.

"Excuse me?" Langdon said, hoping he didn't sound rude. It was, after all, her country. She didn't have to speak English.

"Tea far e to," she said, her smile widened in assurance.

"I'm sorry," said Langdon. "Could you repeat that one more time?"

"K, go bye," she smiled again, and leaned to the side to see the person behind him. "Nest?"

"Um," Langdon stood their for a few moments.

"It's on the card," said Venghram, pointing to the piece of plastic in Langdon's hands.

"Thanks," he said, reading the numbers 342, clearly written in bold print. "I was about to ask where the tea room is."

"I thought I was going to be sleeping 8 ft under in the swimming pool the way she put it," said Venghram, with a hardy laugh.

* * *

Langdon sat quietly on the imprinted sheets of the bed in his room of the Ramses Hilton. He was holding in his hands a sheet of paper containing the home number of Dr. Zahi Hawass. They had planned to meet when Langdon arrived. He was a bit hesitant to call, seeing as it was only 6:54.

"What the heck," said Langdon, aloud to himself. He picked up the phone and dialed the number. It rang two times, and...

"Hello," said a voice at the other end.

"Hello," Robert said back. "I hope I-"

"Robert?" Dr. Hawass' voice rang through the phone. "Good, I'm glad its you. I was hoping you'd call early."

"I didn't wake you?" asked Robert.

"Oh no," said Dr. Hawass, his voice emitted kindness. "I wake with the sun, just like the kings. So, Discovered anything good lately."

"No," he said. _Just a few more grey hairs_. "When do you want to meet?"

"That is why I'm glad you called early," said Dr. Hawass. He heard a distinct sigh. "It looks like I'll have to cancel. We can meet later, after the conference of course. It's just that a man called from the British Museum yesterday evening, and he asked to meet with me this morning. I would rather speak with you in private, than in the company of others. I hope you don't mind."

"It's alright," said Langdon. He probably needed the sleep anyway.

"I will see you at the conference then," said Dr. Hawass. "We can make our plans after."

They said their good-byes and Robert hung up the phone. He then picked up the alarm clock on the night stand and adjusted it to go off at 8:00.

As Langdon's back hit the softness of the bed, he could feel the tension roll off him. He didn't bother to take off his clothes, although he'd probably regret it later. But that wasn't on his mind right now. He had at least an hour of sleep ahead of him. Sweet...peaceful...sleep...

* * *

There was a soft pounding at the door. Zahi had just ended his conversation with Robert Langdon. _I can always tell him later,_ he thought.

Zahi walked to the door and clasped the knob. He pulled it open and stepped back. "Hello."

"Hello, Dr. Hawass, I am Bradley Ruckford," said the man. "We spoke on the phone."

"Ah, yes," said Zahi. "Come in. I didn't expect-"

What happened next was a surprise to Zahi. As he turned to let Mr. Ruckford in, an enormous hand came in contact with his face. He saw a bright white light, and felt his knees hit the floor. The bright light turned to darkness, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Reference: http/


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Just what I thought," André sighed, as he entered the rose colored building. _Nothing but old people_.

The Egyptian Museum had been cut off from visitors, but André flashed a shiny card that pronounced him as _André Carriere, International Correspondent for TIME_. The man behind the desk gave him a smile and said, "I'm so glad a magazine like TIME is interested in the preservation of History!"

_More like the guests that will be attending_, he thought to himself.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, André couldn't denounce the beauty of the building in which he entered. He had always been a big believer in "The past is the Past, lets care about what's going on now." But there was something about Egypt that enthraled him and every other person he knew. And it couldn't be more evident in France. From the Louvre to Napoleon, the country obviously had an addiction.

André followed a serious of arrows that were taped on the walls. They led to a large conference room. The people were sparse, but it was still early. He chose his seating carefully, doing his best to find a spot that was the farthest away from the front. When he was satisfied, he leaned back in the chair, and let his chin drop to his chest. _Might as well catch up on the sleep that I never get._

* * *

Robert threw his hand at the alarm clock, trying to shut it off. It's loud beeping finally stopped as he pushed it off the night stand and onto the floor. _Serves it right_, he thought.

Langdon slowly got up from the bed, and made his way to the bathroom. As he entered, the sight of his clothes in the mirror was one he didn't want to see. His shirt was twisted and wrinkled around his body, and the once sleek chinos were now rumpled. He did his best to straighten himself up, but then he caught another glimpse of himself in the mirror. He moved closer in hopes that what he saw wasn't true.

"Not there, too," said Langdon aloud, as he picked at the stubble forming on his jaw line. But sure enough, it was there. His once brown stubble was not flooded with grey. _When does it end? _

From the other room he heard the phone ring, so he, thankfully, pried himself away from the mirror.

"Yes," said Robert, picking up the phone.

"Go day! Roe burt Land hen, yur car ees her," said the familiar voice of a woman. She hung up the phone the second she finished.

"I distinctively heard the word car," Robert told himself. He decided that she must be telling him that the driver that was to take him to the Egyptian Museum had arrived. So, forgetting about his rumpled clothes and stubble, Robert walked out of the door.

* * *

"Here," said Venghram, holding out a small box. "Take this."

"What is it?" asked Robert, reaching out to grab the small package. They were standing in the front of the Hotel, waiting for their driver to pull around.

"It is just something that Dr. Hawass asked me to bring for him," said Venghram, he stared out at the plaza. "Could you give it to him, for me?"

"Why, can't you?" said Robert.

"No, I'm not going," Venghram said, in a very frank manner.

"Why not? Isn't that why you cam to Cairo?"

"Yes, but I changed my mind," said Venghram, and he walked away before Robert could ask another question.

He felt relieved he didn't have to share the taxi anymore, but at the same time he was puzzled. He placed the package in his breast pocket. _Hopefully it won't explode,_ he thought, thinking about how much Germans detest Americans.

The drive to The Egyptian Museum was short and fast. After all, The hotel was only a few 'American' blocks away from the museum. Langdon would have just walked, but since Venghram's and his conversation on the plane, he decided against it.

He exited the taxi, and stared at the building that was before him. It was the Egyptian Louvre, minus the glass pyramid. But it didn't need one, because the Nile you had a perfect view of the real thing, Giza.

The beautiful burnt-rose colored building was accented with white and adorned a statue of the famous sphinx at its entrance. Robert opened the door and immediately felt every part of life rush back into him. _Yeah,_ he thought,_ I am a romantic_. It was beautiful, down to every last hieroglyphic. He must of looked stupid, standing there, gazing at the room around him, but it didn't matter.

After a few moments of savoring his surroundings, he walked up to the reception desk and was directed down a hallway. Entering the large conference room, he felt another wave of happiness hit him. Looking around, he had to be the youngest person in the room. Groups of men were standing around chatting, most of them were short and white haired. But then, as soon as it came, it went. In the back row he saw a sandy brown haired man dozing off, who couldn't be more than 35.

Robert decided to take a seat in the spot directly in front of him, wanting to sit in the back so he could take the whole room into view throughout the conference. He looked around some more, recognizing a few face. He saw Dr. Kent Weeks, he was in the middle of a deep conversation with two other men. He was another 'big wig' when it came to Egyptology. And on the other side of the room he saw Kevin Dean, who was a noted historian from Brown University. Robert often saw his picture in magazines, such as _Biblical Archaeology Review_ and_ Current Archaeology_. He was a big advocate for the preservation of historical documents. It made since for him to be here.

He heard a stir behind him and a voice ask, "Excuse me, are you permitted to be here?"

There was a rustle of clothing and a flick of plastic. "Here."

"Ah, TIME magazine. It's good that you are here."

Langdon sat for a moment, his eyes wide open. He needed to move away from this spot, without being seen. He'd had an encounter with a reporter from TIME magazine a few months ago that made him angry still thinking about it.. They'd made him out to be some type of male Britney Spears, following him around like that.

Slowly, Langdon got up, keeping his face turned away from the man behind him. He walked down the back of the large room scanning for seats that were as far away as possible from the reporter. Most had been taken, seeing as it was close to conference time.

"Hello Robert," said a man that Langdon had just passed. He spun around. "That eager to run away from me?"

"Not at all," said Robert, shaking his hand. The man was Mark Lehner, another famous Egyptologist. He was an average American looking man, with salt and pepper hair. His thick black eyebrows touched the top rim of his gold glasses.

"Care to sit together, by any chance?" he asked. "I'd love to get a first hand account of your trip to Paris last spring."

"Sit, yes," said Robert, nodding, and then shaking his head. "Paris, no."

"That's what I figured," said Lehner, laughing slightly. "I'm sure you get that a lot. Why, you've become a regular Indiana Jones, haven't you?"

"Unwelcome, of course," replied Robert, he looked down as they spoke. Although Lehner meant it as just casual conversation, he was sick of the subject.

"Well, I'm sure it's helped your book sales," Lehner continued. "Publicity, good or bad, can have its benefits."

"This is true," said Robert. "And how have your book sales been doing?"

"Who knows? I don't keep up with it to much," said Lehner. They continued walking down the back of the room, and then up the center isle. "I plan to return to Harvard, this coming summer. I've been so caught up with my work in Chicago, I've begun to neglect my work there. This seems like a nice spot."

They took two seats in the fourth row from the front. "Have you met Miss Indiya Becker, Robert?" asked Lehner, leaning back to give him a better view of the woman who sat next to him.

"Robert Langdon," he said, stretching out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"And you," she said, shaking his hand. Robert guessed that she had to be in her mid 30s, but he couldn't be entirely sure. She had curly brown hair that went down to her elbows, and large facial features that were accentuated with a set of grey eyes._ Typical American smart-girl,_ Langdon thought.

"She is going to be the next great one I predict," said Lehner. "Despite her CNN appeal."

"I had to look professional," she said, pulling at her brown suit jacket, which matched her knee length skirt.

"Are you an Egyptologist, as well?" Robert asked.

"Yes," she replied. "But I wont be a great one. All the wonderful work has been done already, leaving me to just right more books about it." She flashed an admiring smile at Lehner.

"Don't flatter me," Lehner said. "I'm just doing the same thing you will. Collecting the past."

The room began to quiet down as the time for Dr. Hawass' lecture arrived. Robert scanned the front of the room, looking for him, but he didn't spot him. It wasn't like him to be late, especially for a thing like this.

"Maybe he locked himself in a tomb?" remarked a man in front of them.

"Sad thing is, he's done that before," added Lehner. "Countless times. Although I'm sure he doesn't mind. Come to think of it, I don't think any of us would."

"I spoke with him this morning," said Robert. "We were suppose to meet for breakfast, but he canceled."

"It's not like him to cancel," said Lehner. "Or be late."

The silence that developed was deafening. You could have heard a pen drop. Five minutes late soon turned into 12 minutes. Something was definitely wrong, but Langdon couldn't imagine what. He remembered talking to Dr. Hawass this morning, and how he was to meet a man from the British Museum. He couldn't have gotten that engrossed in conversation that he forgotten about his own conference. And then...

An aged man walked up to the podium in the front of the room. He looked relatively calm, being in front of such a crowd. He began to talk, "It's wonderful to see so many of you here, and so many interested in the topic we were supposed to discuss today."

_Supposed to?_ Langdon thought to himself.

"Unfortunately," the man continued. "I will have to cancel this conference, due to unforseen circumstances. But, I ask that you to not move from you seats just yet."

The room full of disappointed historians began to whisper.

"Uh no," said Lehner, jokingly. "What did Zahi do this time?"

"I told you, he locked himself in a tomb," said the same man in front of him.

At that moment, the back doors opened, emerging from it were two officers from the Egyptian Police Authority. They walked down the center isle, past Langdon, and up to the man who had just addressed them. One of the men whispered into his ear for a brief second, and then they walked back down the isle.

The man who had addressed them turned to the podium again. He gave a sigh and then spoke, "I'm sorry, but I must inform you that you will not be leaving us right away. I have been asked to keep you in the Museum until further notice. It appears that our Dr. Hawass has gone missing, momentarily.

"Missing?"Lehner said aloud, breaking the silence.

_This is a joke, right?_ Langdon thought to himself._ He couldn't possibly...be missing?_ The last thing Langdon needed was more missing people around him. Was there seriously some kind of conspiracy following him everywhere he went?

That last question seemed to confirm itself, as the same man walked up to the podium for a third time.

"If Kevin Dean and Dr. Kent Weeks are present in this room, I need them to stand up at this moment," he said. The room went silent, and heads turned in all directions. No one stood from their seat.

And so, the day unfolded...


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_Missing people?_ André sat up in his chair, his eyes bolting open. _Ceci est grand!_ Maybe he would get a story after all. He had the sudden urge to pick up his cell phone and dial Mike Pane's number, but repelled from doing so. With police filing into the room, he didn't want to seem suspicious.

André's journalistic mind was beginning to tic. Whether this turned out to be something big, or just another flop, it was something that he could engage in for the time being. Finally, after waiting for months, he had something to do.

His pocket vibrated, and André pulled out his phone. He looked at the caller; Mike Pane. André smirked, _talk about good timing, my American friend._

"André, are you there?" He had an eagerness in his voice.

"Well, I did pick up the phone," André spoke with sarcasm.

"You know what I mean," said Pane. "Are you at the conference?"

"Yes," André said, slightly sinking in his chair. He was sure no one cared who he was at the moment, due to the confusion, but he didn't want to make himself noticed just yet. "Keep your voice down." André said, thinking that maybe his conversation could be picked up on.

"Listen to this," Pane began. "I was doing my routine, checking some of the terrorist website's, and I found something. You might get a story there after all."

"I know," André spoke in a whisper. He was sure Pane didn't here him because he just continued talking.

"Both Al-Gama'at al-Islamiya and Egyptian Islamic Jihad are saying that something big is going to happen today," Pane continued. "Now, you know my Arabic is a bit iffy, so I had to get one of the interns to translate it fully. He said it didn't give full details, so I don't know anything more than that. So, my suggestion to you is to get out of there. You might want to go stop by the CNN office. Maybe they have a lead on the story already. They're affiliates, they should give it to us."

"I can't," André spoke through his teeth. Two guards were standing no more than ten feet away from him.

"What do you mean you can't?" Pane was screaming. "You've been on the phone everyday saying you want to go to Jerusalem and that there are no stories there. Now _something _happens, and you say you _can't_?"

"No," said André, fighting the urge to yell back. "You don't understand. I-"

"Excuse me, sir," someone tapped on André's shoulder. He turned and came face to face with a young guard. He shut his phone, cutting off Pane's voice. I'm sure he didn't like that, André thought. He kept his cool, and straightened in his chair.

_"Oui?"_ André said. Maybe he could pull off the old tourist act. It always seemed to work when he got in a jam. Like the time he almost got arrested for taking pictures of two men playing chess in Tehran. He was a newbie, and didn't know he needed a permit to take pictures of Iranian citizens. He played it off, pretending he didn't know any language but French, and they let him off with a warning.

"Didn't you hear?" the guard said, his facial expression was a bit naive. "You aren't aloud to use your phone right now."

"No phone?" André pointed at his cellular device, and tried to look as puzzled as possible.

The guard looked a bit puzzled himself, he sort of looked around. _Probably looking for an escape route,_ André thought._ Looks like it'll work again._

"What is your native tongue?" Another, much larger, guard walked up to him.

André raised his eyebrows and leaned closer, pretending he didn't hear him correctly. It seemed like this one would be a bit harder to convince.

"He speaks English." The man who had awoken André earlier had walked up to them. In fact, looking around, André saw that there were more eyes on him than he'd wanted. "He is from TIME magazine." So much for his cover.

"You speak English, do you?" The larger guard looked at him, acting surprised. André wasn't fooled. "What, you thought it'd be fun to play a game."

André didn't reply. His journalistic mode seemed to be on shut down.

"Let's pull him in for questioning," the guard said, turning to the others.

_"Que moi?"_ André was standing up now. A guard had gently grabbed him by the arm and begun to pull him away from his chair. André contemplated resisting for a moment, but then thought other wise. He didn't need to get himself killed.

* * *

"We all know what's going on," said Lehner, who was in a deep conversation with the people around him. "It's a terrorist group." 

"Such an American," said an Italian man sitting behind them. "So quick to blame."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Lehner turned to face the man.

"Mr. Langdon, maybe you could tell them that you spoke with Zahi this morning," Indiya Becker had broke in, and ended the pending conversation.

Langdon nodded. Although he'd love to help, he'd been hoping to keep himself quiet. He didn't want to get involved in any of this. All he wanted to do was get out. This was all getting ridiculous. It seemed like everywhere he went, a shadow followed. Maybe Boston Magazine was right when they called him Harrison Ford in Harris Tweed, at the moment he sure did feel like it.

An Egyptian Guard walked up to the podium. "At this time, we'd like to ask if anyone in the room recently spoke with either Dr. Zahi Hawass, Dr. Kent Weeks, or Kevin Dean?"

Langdon could feel the eyes on him from those around him. A few people raised their hands, and he felt he had to do the same.

"If you could please move to the back of the room," the guard finished, and walked away.

Langdon got up from his chair, and turned down the isle, towards the exit. He heard light footsteps behind him, so he turned his head. Indiya Becker was there.

"Who did you speak to?" Langdon asked.

"I spoke with Zahi last night, and I spent most of the morning with Dr. Kent Weeks," she said. Langdon nodded, and turned back around. There was something about Ms. Becker that bothered him, but he couldn't quite place it.

There was about a dozen people who had walked to the back of the large conference room. A young guard began taking down their names. "Robert Langdon," he said, as he stepped up. The guard sat a moment, with pen in hand, and then looked up at Robert._ Please don't say you recognize me,_ Robert thought.

"How do you spell your last name?" the guard stared at him blankly.

_"L-a-n-g-d-o-n,"_ Robert said, with much relief. After giving his name, he was ushered out of the room and down a hallway. He passed tables full of maps, and guards radioing to one another. He knew that Dr. Hawass was an important man, along with the others, but he was surprised at the magnitude to which this was being carried out.

"This way," said the guard who was leading him. He opened a wooden door, and Langdon walked inside.

* * *

Indiya was doing her best to keep up with the guard in front of her, but he was walking a bit too fast. _I knew I shouldn't have worn heels,_ she thought to herself. After winding around the numerous hallways of offices and restoration rooms in the Egyptian Museum, the guard finally stopped and opened a door. She entered, and found herself in a storage room, filled with numerous artifacts that were waiting to be displayed. 

"Have a seat," said the guard, he pointed to a chair at a nearby table. "Someone will be in here to speak with you shortly."

She smiled courteously at the guard as he left. Once the door was shut, she turned her attention to the numerous shelves around her. As she lifted up worn fabric to peek at what might lie beneath, she began to think.

_How could this happen? Zahi couldn't possibly be missing._ It was only just last night she had spoken with him. They spent hours talking about his recent quest to retrieve the famous bust of Nefertiti from Germany. It had been something Zahi was hoping would happen soon. He felt he had the duty, as both a native Egyptian and Egyptologist, to return the replica of the famous queen to her home.

Indiya smiled, thinking about her mentor. She didn't know how she'd come to be so lucky. She had worked with some of the greatest historians of their time. And now, all of that could be fading away. If it was a terrorist group that had carried out this act, there was a small chance of getting any of the three men back. Just thinking about these words made Indiya cringe with anger. _How could these men be taken? They did nothing wrong._

She wanted to hit something, or at least do something. She couldn't just sit in a room answering questions while one of the greatest people she'd ever come to know could be in trouble. Indiya was a firm believer in action. She was a part of the "blink" generation. At the moment though, blinking couldn't solve anything.

The door opened, and from it, a large Egyptian guard emerged. Indiya smiled politely, but it seemed to be a waste, seeing as the guard could have cared less.

"Have a seat..." He looked at him clipboard. "Ms. Indiya Becker."

They both sat at the only table in the room. The guard took several minutes looking over his notes before he spoke. _What notes could he possibly have?_

"Tell me who you are associated with," he said, not bothering to look up.

"Well," Indiya began. "I speak with Dr. Hawass regularly, we both work together. And Dr. Kent Weeks, I-"

The guard raised his hand, and cut her off. There seemed to be yelling coming from the hallway. He stood up and walked out the room. Indiya felt compelled to do the same.

The commotion was coming from a little ways down the hall. The guard walked fast, and Indiya did her best to do the same. There was a small crowd gathered around three men. Two of them were in uniform, the other was in jeans and a blue shirt. The third man was being held back by one of the guards, while the other held a gun pointed at his face.

"Just tell us," said the guard with the gun.

"Tell you what?" The man being held yelled at him, his french accent ringing through the hall. "I don't even know what you are talking about. I don't even know who these people are."

"What is going on?" The guard who had been questioning Indiya had spoken up.

"Lieutenant Ashraf, we are sure this man has some type of affiliation with what's going on," the guard with the gun answered. "He knew about the warnings."

"I told you," the French man was trying to rip away from the guard restraining him. "I am a journalist, my editor called me and said that there were warning of a possible attack."

"Then why are you here?" said Lieutenant Ashraf, in a suspicious tone. "If you had a lead about a possible kidnaping you should have tipped us, even if it was anonymous."

"I just happened to be here," the French man began to settle down. "I had no idea anything was going on until I got here."

"We'll have to take him into custody," said Lieutenant Ashraf, turning to a group of guards standing near by.

_"Je ne pense pas si!"_ the French man ripped his arm from the guard restraining him. Indiya's attention was immediately diverted to a sudden movement to her right. The guard with the gun moved closer, and was set to pull the trigger.

"No!" another guard screamed. Moving forward, with great speed, he pushed the gun away from the french man. The mouth of the gun was pushed directly at Indiya's eye level. She looked straight into the black hole, and became motionless. She felt her arm being pulled away, and then a shot rang.

Note: I appreciate all of your reviews! I hope to have the next chapter up shortly.  
If any of you have been watching the news, there was an attack near the Egyptian Museum, and two women were shot. The Egyptian government asked American tourists to stay away from sightseeing in Cairo for awhile...talk about Ironic? It makes me feel like I am predicting the future. You might want to look it up on CNN if you haven't heard about it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The loud cry of the pistol was deafening, and after it, followed an eerie silence. It was a moment in which nothing happened, not even thought. Everything happened so fast. It took a minute for Indiya to realize she was lying on the floor. Her head had clashed hard with the cement below her, and she felt the side effects. She moved her hands up in down her stomach, waiting to feel the gush of blood. But it wasn't there. The bullet must have missed her.

She felt a hand clasp the back of her head, and lift it up. Robert Langdon was kneeling beside her, stilling holding onto her arm. He must have been the one to pull her down. He helped her sit up.

"I didn't mean to pull you down so hard," he said, there was a waiting in his stare.

"I'm grateful that you did," Indiya smiled at him. _I'd rather have a banged up head than a whole through my gut._

He pulled her to her feet, and she immediately came face to face with Lieutenant Ashraf. "My apologies Miss," he said, his expression looking sincere for the first time. He turned to the guard who had shot the gun. "Take that away from him!"

"I'm sorry," the guard said, as the gun was ripped out of his hands. Two guards walked him away.

* * *

Robert still held onto Indiya's arm. Even though she said she was okay, he wasn't quite sure. Her head fell so hard against the floor he heard an echo. He was sure she'd lost a few brain cells thanks to him. 

"It didn't hit anybody else, did it?" she said, turning to look behind her. She let out a gasp and ripped her arm out of Robert's grasp.

"No...I can't believe!" she spoke in fragments, as she ran up to the nearest wall. On it was a frame, which held what looked like an old piece of papyrus. What was on the papyrus, Langdon could not see. The bullet that had almost hit Indiya had hit the frame in its dead center. The glass covering the papyrus was severely cracked.

"This is from the Amrana revolution!" Indiya ran her fingers over the cracks. All signs of a concussion seemed to be null and void. "It was created under the rule of Amenhotep IV! It depicts the god Aton. Zahi had it hung here to remind us of the change that came under his rule."

"We'll pay-" Lieutenant Ashraf was cut off.

"Pay?" she turned to him, glaring at him with her grey eyes, which now had a new fire in them. Langdon was sure if there was something to throw, she'd throw it. "You can't pay to make a new one. It is priceless."

"If we get this glass off it," said Robert, stepping up to the frame. "We might be able to see how much damage it has."

"You'll have time for that later," said Lieutenant Ashraf. "There is an investigation going on now. Do you want to find these men or not?"

Indiya stared at him for a moment, and then turned her head, remaining silent. "Good," said Lieutenant Ashraf. "As for you." He turned to the reporter from Time Magazine.

"Don't shove any guns in my face, and I wont resist to answer your questions," he said.

"I guess I'll have to take your word for it," said Lieutenant Ashraf. "Come with me, then. And you two, as well."

The three of them were led to an empty office which didn't look like it had been occupied for quite some time. There was a lone desk in the center of the room, and the walls were bare except for a large map of Cairo to their left.

"I didn't mean to almost get you killed," said the reporter, turning to Indiya.

"No harm done," she said, extending a hand. "Indiya Becker."

"André Carriere," the reporter introduced himself.

"And this is-"

"I know who you are," said André, lifting his eyebrows curiously.

"I wont take that as a compliment," said Robert. He couldn't help his comment from coming off cold.

"Don't," said André crudely. "You're the whole reason I almost got killed."

"I'm sorry?" said Indiya, looking between the two of them.

"The whole reason I was sent to this convention was to watch him," André pointed at Robert.

"Is there nothing better going on in the world?" asked Robert, moving a step closer in a threatening manner.

"Don't think I wanted to be here," André replied. He turned to Indiya. "No offense. I've been trying to get out of this country for months."

"But you still came," said Robert, the volume in his voice climbing.

"I had no choice," said André. "It's my job!"

"Stop this!" Indiya stepped between the two of them, pushing them away from each other. "None of us needs this right now. I suggest you two put any hostilities towards each other away for the time being."

Robert looked away from him, turning his attention to the map on the wall. He couldn't believe the anger that erupted in him, but he was fed up.

"Now," Indiya began, turning to André. "What made them think you were a suspect." Robert turned to listen to what he'd have to say.

"It was all just a misunderstanding," said André. He propped himself on the desk behind him. "Right after they had announced people were missing, my editor called me saying that the major terrorist website's affiliated with Egypt were reporting an attack of some sort. They came up to me and told me I couldn't be on the phone. Well...I didn't really cooperate. So, they walked me out of the room and began questioning me. All I told them was what I knew, and somehow they took that as me being on the inside."

"You don't have some type of press pass you could have shown them?" asked Indiya. The tone of her question put Robert in deja vu. It was all happening again. He was somehow getting involved in something he had nothing to do with. There had to be some way he could get out of this.

"I would have, but they had me at gunpoint the second I told them," André replied. "It probably wouldn't matter. The law doesn't like journalist, we make things complicated."

_I agree,_ Robert thought.

"So, I'm guessing these missing people are historians," said André. "And they are Americans, too?"

"Dr. Hawass and Dr. Weeks are both Egyptologist," said Indiya.

"And Kevin Dean is from Brown University," added Robert.

"Never heard of it?" said André, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Never mind," Robert turned away again.

"Please!" Indiya gave both of them a glance, and then continued. "Dr. Hawass, Zahi, was not an American, he was Egyptian."

"Egyptian?" André said in disbelief. "That's surprising. It's rare that a terrorist group would kidnap someone of their own nationality. It could be a good sign though."

"How?" asked Indiya.

"They could just be making this out to be a threat," André replied. "At least on Dr. Hawass' part. They might not kill him because he is of the same nationality. As for the other two, they are Americans. This event has probably been publicized for some time. The group could have made the assumption that Americans would be attending, so they set up a plan."

"It's frightening to hear all of this come out of your mouth," Robert replied. Maybe the guards had a right to put the journalist at gunpoint.

"This is nothing," André replied. Robert got the sense that the reporter felt above himself being so _knowledgeable_ in the field, despite his comment. "I have a colleague, Michael Ware, he told me about most of their tactics. I'm sure your American government would love to have him working for them. He knows more about these groups that anyone I know."

The door knob turned, and Lieutenant Ashraf emerged from the door frame. He had an odd expression on his face, the others must have sensed it too.

"Is something wrong?" asked Indiya.

"Yes, quite so," he said. "Another person has gone missing."

"Who?" Indiya immediately shot out.

Lieutenant Ashraf turned to face Langdon. "Johannis Venghram".


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Republican Senator Aldan Nicholl had just finished his meeting with the Egyptian Prime Minister. He was now sitting in the back of an Egyptian cab, wiping his forehead. _My God,_ _this heat!_ Senator Nicholl thought to himself. Being from the cold state of Montana, he'd never experienced this type of dryness before.

_It is all worth it_, he thought to himself. _Anything for the safety of my country._

Senator Nicholl was one of the biggest advocates for homeland security. While other senators had taken up issues such as the environment and stem-cell research, he felt compelled to save his country from things he felt were more threatening than liberals and global warming. Terrorist. Although thought to be under control, Senator Nicholl knew better. He'd seen the effect of terrorism first hand.

He winced at the thoughts that came to his mind, and did his best to push them away. Such pain would be what fueled him, not what crushed him. He was a strong politician. If doing his job to the fullest meant going into the heartland of the beast, then he would just have to do it.

* * *

"That's impossible!' Robert spoke after a few seconds. 

"On the contrary," said Lieutenant Ashraf. "It's not, and we know you were with him this morning."

"I was," said Langdon, not refusing anything. "We were both on the plane over here. I haven't seen him since we parted at the hotel."

"He was supposed to be here at the conference today," said Indiya.

"But he never came," said Lieutenant Ashraf. He kept is stare on Robert. "Do you know why?"

"I have no idea," Robert continued, doing his best to sound completely honest. "We were about to leave and he backed out."

"Any idea why?" Lieutenant Ashraf continued to question him.

"No," said Langdon. "Actually, I thought he'd flipped. He seemed completely fine on the plane, and then...I don't know how to explain the way he acted. It could have been normal, I don't know? It was the first time I'd met him."

"Alright," Lieutenant Ashraf moved toward the door. "I'll be back later with more questions."

"How long are you going to leave us in here?" asked André.

"As long as I need to," Lieutenant Ashraf replied. "Don't think you're a special case. You're being questioned just like everyone else is." He shut the door.

"You are like a magnet," André said, as the door closed. "I can see why they've had us follow you around."

"Is my phone being taped as well?" sneered Robert.

"If it is, it's your fault," he replied. "You bring it all upon yourself."

"You honestly don't think I ask for this, do you?" Robert asked.

André simply shrugged, which caused Robert to sigh. He moved over to the nearest wall, he slid down it, and sat on the floor. His head rested against the cool wall. He could hear people passing by the room, going every which way. He was trapped. There wasn't even a window to climb out of. Trapped, again. Trapped in a spinning cycle of events, that seemed like they would never end. He was in this whether he liked it or not.

Indiya came to sit next to him. She stretched out her legs before her, placing her hands face down on her knee length skirt.

"What's that?" asked Robert, pointing to her middle finger. On it, tattooed in dark black, was a bold number three.

She gave a slight laugh. "It's a long story."

A buzzing sound erupted from the center of the room. André jumped up from the desk, and dug into his pocket, _" J'ai oublié!"_

* * *

André opened the phone, and knew there was no need to say hello. 

"You must have career suicide," said Pane, his voice was stern.

"More like a death wish," said André.

"I was fit to fly a plane there and rip your head off myself when you hung up on me," Pane continued. "Then I got the update. All the big wig media stations are reporting that the Conference at the Museum has gotten canceled because of "unforseen circumstances". Care to share?"

"Four have been kidnaped," André replied. "And they are all linked."

"Are you sure you should be sharing that information?" asked Langdon, cutting into the phone conversation.

"No one said I couldn't," replied André.

"But they did say not to use the phone," said Robert.

André was about to snap back, but Pane cut him off. "Who is that?"

"Your golden boy," André replied, looking directly at Langdon, who gave him a suspecting look after he said this.

"That's not-"

"Yup," said André.

"What'd I tell you, André?" said Pane. "I told you there was a story wherever this guy went."

"He doesn't have anything to do with it," said André. "I'll call you back." He hung up the phone before Pane could object. "Happy?"

"If my perceptions are correct, yes," Robert replied. "Why'd you do it?"

"Quite honestly," André stood up and walked to the map on the wall. "I don't need him telling anything to the main media outlets just yet. If someone's going to break the true facts about this story, it's going to be me."

"Not at the expense of others, of course?" asked Indiya.

"There is no love in the media," said André, he turned to Robert. "You should know that. To get truth and fact you must go to all means."

"Sometimes you get things wrong," said Robert, remembering all to well the BBC reporter from the Vatican. "And it can do serious damage."

"Yes, it can," André replied, with honesty. "But sometimes, don't you need to take risk? You two are historians, right? Wouldn't you go though great means to save history?"

"Yes," replied Robert, because he already had. "And what does a Journalist save?"

"Conversation," said André, he began pacing across the room. "In our grasp we have the fate of many things. We can kill an event by not talking about it, therefore causing others not to talk about it as well. Talking always keeps the ball rolling. While there is conversation, there is hope for understanding. We are messengers, in another since. Passing down stories to the generations that will come. We are not to different from the Egyptian wall painters. They wrote their history, and so do I."

"That's an interesting point," Indiya smiled.

"And very true," said André. _"The improvement of understanding is for two ends. First, our own increase of knowledge. Secondly, to enable us to deliver that knowledge to others."_

"John Locke," said Robert.

"Smart man," replied André.

* * *

The room around Zahi was dark and cold. His head was throbbing in pain. It took a few minutes for him to collect his thoughts. 

"Where am I?" he wondered aloud.

"That will remain disclosed for now," said a voice from the corner.

Zahi was startled, and jumped away from the direction in which the voice spoke. His eyes were still adjusting to the lack of light, but he didn't need to see the man to know who it was.

"I don't understand," said Zahi. "I don't even know you."

"But I know you," said Bradley Ruckford. "And I have long since waited to ask you what I am about to."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Senator Aldan Nicholl pulled up to the Egyptian museum at 12:32. His business here was to meet with some of America's most acclaimed archaeologist and historians who had traveled to Cairo for a convention being held by Dr. Zahi Hawass. He wanted to make sure that they were comfortable in this setting.

However, what greeted him was not what he expected. Several men of the Egyptian guard walked towards him as he exited the car. He looked up at them in surprise.

"May I help you?" Asked the senator, speaking with awareness.

"Senator Aldan Nicholl," Asked the closest guard to him. "We would like you to come with us, if you don't mind."

"Is something wrong?" asked Senator Nicholl.

"We will inform you once we are inside," said the guard. The Senator followed him with no objections.

* * *

The door burst open, and in its frame stood Lieutenant Ashraf. The veins in his neck were pulsing with rage. "You called someone and told them, didn't you!"

"What are you talking about?" André sat peacefully on the desk in the center of the room.

"Don't act smart with me!" Lieutenant Ashraf walked towards the desk. "No one knew about the kidnaping and now everyone does. We've done our absolute best to keep things secret until we have more information. Yet, somehow, they found out. I just _wonder_ how that could have happened?"

"Don't look at me," said André, his face was completely relaxed. It didn't matter whether he fooled the Lieutenant or not. _He can't do anything to me, _André thought.

"Give me your phone," said the Lieutenant, holding out his hand.

"I'm not giving you anything," André objected.

"I'm ordering you!" the Lieutenants raised his voice. André did nothing, he remained quietly seated on the desk.

"Lieutenant," Robert stood up from the floor. "I can assure you he did not use the phone."

"That's beyond the point now," Ashraf didn't move his eyes off of André. "I know he will eventually, and I want to keep him from doing so."

"You're not getting it," said André.

With one fluid movement, the Lieutenant stepped closer and thrust his hand toward André's pant pocket. André jumped off the desk, trying to push the large man away. _"Vous excusez!"_

André's attempts to push the man away failed, as he felt the weight of the phone leave his pocket. "The evidence of you being a suspect is becoming more and more evident," said Lieutenant Ashraf, as he exited the room with André's phone in hand.

"Damn it!"Robert Langdon cursed at the door.

"What are you so angry about?" said André, feeling rather violated of rights and privacy at the moment. "It was my phone! Do you know how much information I've got on that thing?"

"I don't care about that," he said, turning away from the door, and towards him. "Do you honestly think I said what I said to help _you?_ We need that phone."

"Using me now, are you?" asked André, his green eyes widening in pretend surprise.

"Just as much as you have me," said Langdon. "Now we have no way of talking to the outside."

"I have a phone," said Indiya, who was standing quietly beside them. She un-clipped a small, flat cellular device from her waist, and handed it to Langdon, which André immediately snatched away.

"Good girl!" he said, opening the phone. He dialed for a call outside the country.

"Who are you calling?" asked Indiya.

"My editor," André replied. "I need to tell him not to call my phone."

"Get the number of your reporter friend, while you're at it," said Langdon.

"Who, Michael Ware?" asked André. "Why?"

"You said he knows more about Terrorist groups that anyone you know," said Langdon. "If it is a terrorist group that has kidnaped Dr. Hawass and the others, we need to know where to look."

* * *

"Are you thinking of picking this investigation up yourself?" asked Indiya, turning towards him.

"Even if they find out the exact group that is doing this, they wont negotiate with them," Langdon explained. "The government has always made it a point to not negotiate with terrorists. The Egyptian government might possibly do something to get Dr. Hawass back, but I know America can't and wont do much to get Dr. Weeks and Dean back. And as for Venghram, he's German. I can't wait to here what his government will do. They already hate America, I can't imagine this will improve things."

André had apparently gotten through, because he'd interrupted the conversation and asked Indiya for the number to her phone.

* * *

"So, whatever you do, don't call my phone," said André to the other end. "Now, I need a favor."

"A favor calls for another favor in return," said Pane.

"I already gave you the information about the kidnaping," André replied. "You were sure quick to put that out on the market. How do you think my phone got taken away?"

"That's all said and done," said Pane. "Now, give me the names."

"I can't do that, Mike," said André. "That will risk any chance of me getting more information."

"Look, André," Pane began. He heard a sigh on the other end of the phone, and knew what was coming. "I know you want to cover this, and by every right, it is your story. But your to new of a journalist to be doing this. Hostage situations call for experience. We are already sending someone else to cover it, and we are going to tap into some of CNN's sources as well."

"Experience?" André voice rang with anger. "I've been doing this for ten years! Just because this is my first time at a big name, doesn't mean I'm not qualified. You _need _me to do this. I am on the inside when no one else is."

"Don't start,"said Pane. "I already feel bad enough as it is."

_"Justé",_ grunted André, severely doubting that Mike Pane had feelings at all.

"Now, just give me the names," said Pane.

André paused, and thought for a moment. He looked at Robert and Indiya, who were looking back, waiting to know what was being said on the other end. "Hold on," he told Pane, and he rested the inside of the phone against his shirt so that his conversation couldn't be heard.

"What does he want?" asked Indiya.

"The names," he replied.

The three of them were silent for a moment, all thinking to themselves. "Do you think maybe it could help?" asked Indiya.

"Most likely not," said Robert. "That's just what a terrorist group wants isn't it? To get their message spread."

"Yes, it is," said André. "It will definitely feed their expectations. In turn, it is the only way we could possibly get Ware's number, by releasing the names."

Indiya crossed her arms. "Let's just hope it doesn't do any damage."

André picked up the phone. "Are you ready?"

"With _post it _in hand," said Pane.

"The names are," André began. "Dr. Zahi Hawass, Dr. Kent Weeks, Kevin Dean, and Johannis Venghram."

"Some tricky spelling there," said Pane, sound enthusiastic. "Hopefully I got them right."

"Now," said André, not forgetting his purpose. "I need Michael Ware's number."

"Why?" asked Pane.

"Just give it to me," answered André. "I did you a favor, now you do me one."

"I've been around journalists far to long to know a plan when I see one," said Pane. "Forget it, André." And he hung up the phone.

André cursed aloud at his stupidity. He_ knew_ Pane wouldn't give the number, yet he still got fooled by that 'a favor for a favor' bullshit. He felt his career sinking away. Before he knew it, he would simply be sitting in a cubicle doing proofreading. His worst nightmare, the God forsaken 8-5 job.

"He didn't give it to you?" Indiya was looking at him with eager eyes. André shook his head.

"Are you sure you can't remember the number?" asked Langdon.

"That's the disadvantage to having technology at our service," said André. "It's surprising that I even knew Mike's number. I have so many to keep up with, I just put everything I get in my phone."

"There is no one else you could possibly call?" asked Indiya.

"No one," answered André. "If Mike wont give it to me, I can't imagine anyone else doing so."

"We need to get your phone back," said Langdon.

"An how do you propose we do that?" asked André.

"We'll just have to figure something out," Langdon replied.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _I'm sorry it's been awhile since I've updated. I've been sort of stressed when it comes to time, but I have more now. I hope you will continue to read, and please review. Thanks!_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Lieutenant Ashraf held in his hand a cellular device, which he had just stolen from that arrogant french journalist. _That's the downside to living in an attraction like Cairo_, he thought to himself, as he paced the room. _You have to deal with the ignorance of tourism._

Ashraf stopped pacing, and flipped open the cellular device. "Of course," he said aloud in his native Arabic. "All in french."

He turned to the nearest guard. "See if we can get a french translator on the line," he demanded.

"Of course," the guard turned to leave.

"Do you really think the journalist has something to do with this?" asked another guard.

"I know he does," the Lieutenant sat in the nearest chair, tossing the phone on the table. "You should never trust a journalist. They are ruthless, doing anything at any means to get there story...even if it means fabrication."

* * *

"Indiya, what are you doing?" Robert was pulling her away from the door that she had just opened.

"Shhh," she turned around to hush the two men. She wasn't about to be caught.

Her mind had switched to military mode. It was clear that they were not going to be let go, and it was even more clear that the Egyptian Guard had no lead in the investigation. She wasn't about to let her mentor and others die, she was going to take action.

She stuck her head outside of the door, and came face to face with yet another member of the Egyptian guard. It seemed Lieutenant Ashraf wanted them watched closely. She put on a smile, and tried to act as polite as possible.

"Excuse me," she asked him in Arabic. "Do you think it would be possible if I could use the bathroom?"

The guard eyed her suspiciously for a moment. "No, I have strict orders to keep all three of you in this room."

"Please," she asked persistently. "I promise it wont take long."

The guard looked around for a few moments. "Let me radio-"

But before the guard could even pick up his radio, his vision was met with Indiya's fist. She was surprised that only one punch was needed, he hit the floor with a dull thud, and lay unconscious. She stepped out into the empty hallway, and grabbed the guards feet.

"_Je...Je...Je ne peux-"_ André stuttered at the door.

"I can't believe you just did that," said Robert, who also appeared at the door.

"Well, believe it," she said, beginning to pull the guard inside the room. "Can someone please help?"

Robert stepped up and took one of the legs. Together they heaved the unconscious body into their temporary jail cell. Once he was in, Indiya motioned for Robert to shut the door, while she knelt down next to the man.

"May I ask why you did this?" said André.

"We need to get your phone back," she replied, pulling the radio off the guards belt.

"And may I ask, where did you learn to punch like that?" asked Robert.

"You didn't think I was just some book worm did you?" she looked up and gave him a smile. "The Air Force."

"Ah, no," André was now kneeling down, as well. "Don't tell me you are one of them patriots, are you?"

"No, it was just the cheap way to a college education," she laughed, fumbling with the radio.

"Now that is America," Robert replied with a laugh.

"So, explain yourself," André motioned to the guard.

"Well, they've got to radio him eventually to make sure we're still in the room, Right?" Indiya began. "We'll take the radio with us, so we'll know when they do so."

"Wait, take it with us?" André stepped in. "Where are we going."

"Out of this room, that's for sure," Indiya replied. "I don't know where their headquarters are exactly, but I know my way around-"

"I'm glad you're having fun with this and everything," André broke in again. "But we can't risk it."

"Stay here if you want," she said, standing up and walking to the door. "Are you coming?"

"Why not?" Replied Robert, walking to the door as well. The two of them exited the room, leaving behind a rather confused André. Indiya decided that their best bet would be to make a turn to the right. She'd passed many makeshift workstations when being ushered to the room. Ashraf was bound to be using one of them.

"Do you hear that?" Robert whispered. She did hear it. Light footsteps were coming down a hall behind them. She pulled Robert by his jacket sleeve, into the nearest room. It was a small restoration room, and lucky for her, the door didn't fit it's threshold so perfectly, leaving a crack for her to peer out of. She watched though the slit for someone to pass by. Robert was right next to her, pressing his ear to the door.

The footsteps became louder, and a figure passed the door way. Indiya waited for the footsteps to fade before she cracked the door open. She peered out into the hallway. The figure that had passed was now well past them. It was another member of Egyptian guard who seemed to be carrying rolls of maps._ If only Zahi could see the museum now,_ she thought. _Flooded with authority, and not History_.

"We should follow him," Robert whispered to her.

"You're right," she replied, opening the door fully. She stepped out into the hallway, and Robert followed. They walked as silently as possible, side-by-side down the hall. It was smart to follow the guard. He was most likely carrying those maps by request, and the request was most like from the Lieutenant.

Indiya's attention split immediately as she heard fast footsteps approach from behind. She reacted on instinct, throwing her fist back. It collided with human flesh. She heard a familiar voice yell out in pain, and she turned.

"_Merde,"_ André was clutching his nose. It seemed he'd changed his mind about staying behind.

"Keep it down," Robert whispered.

Indiya looked for another room to enter, and found one not to far down the hall. She ushered for the two of them to follow her. After they were inside what looked to be like a large utility closet, she lashed out at the man she'd just punched in the face.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"No apology?" André asked, lowering his hand. His nose was already turning a light shade of purple, and had a small cut on the bridge.

"Serve's you right for sneaking up on us like that," she said, turning to look on the nearby shelves for a box of tissue.

"It was in best interest," he replied. "I thought about it, and figured that I should come along. Beside's, my phone is set in french."

"_Vous n'avez pas la foi dans moi?"_ Indiya flashed a smile. She'd thought of the possibility, and knew she could have handled it. French was mandatory for an Egyptologist.

"_Vous avez tenu hors sur moi_," André replied.

"The last thing I need is criticism on my language skills," she said, resting her hand on a box of tissue. She opened it, and handed a piece to André.

"So, do you think you know where my phone is?" André asked, putting the tissue to his nose.

"Shit," Indiya exclaimed. "I forgot."

"Well, we were following a guard," said Robert.

"Not to worry," Indiya said. "We'll just go in the direction he went."

She rested her hand on the nob for a moment, pressing her ear to the door. When she heard no sound of movement, she opened the door, and stepped out, André and Robert followed. Picking up their previous path, they turned right. They walked the distance of the hall, to the next intersection. Indiya decided it was best to turn right, again. However, before they could do so, they were met with unpleasant noise of a radio.

"Khalid." The sound of the radio was like a hammer to glass in the silent hall.

The three of them jumped. Indiya forgot that she had taken the guard's radio with them. She held it out before her, not sure of what to do.

"Khalid, we just want to make sure everything is under control at your post."

The radio went silent for another moment. It's next statement, Indiya was sure, made her heart stop momentarily.

"We've gotten news that one of the kidnaped has been killed already."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Wow..._definitely_ not a good chapter. I hope that you can somehow forgive me. I must confess, it's been a few weeks since I've written anything. It seems like every time I've had an urge to write something, I didn't have access to a computer. I finally sat down and let my fingers work. However, I somewhat lost the rhythm of the story. NOT TO WORRY, I promise I'll work on it by doing some more research and re-reading the chapters. So I hope this chapter doesn't discourage you from reading any further.

What I've been doing is reading a lot lately, trying to pick up some good writing skills. I know I have a problem with writing to much dialogue and not enough fill in between. Im working on it, I promise.

Also, another side note. I just read Digital Fortress (the last book of Dan Brown's that I haven't read) and to my great surprise...the last name of one of the characters (David Becker) just happened to be the last name I chose for one of mine (Indiya Becker). If I would have known this before, I would have chosen otherwise. I promise, there is no relation.

Thanks for reading, and reviewing!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

André's first instinct was to see Indiya's reaction to the news from the radio. Her jaw dropped, and she looked up at both him and Robert in shock, as if she could somehow relate to the two of them.

But there was no connection there. André did not know Zahi Hawass, or the others that had been kidnapped.

"Don't jump to conclusions," he whispered, noting that they were still in the hallway. "The fact that they have _word_ doesn't mean anything in all actuality."

"There is some truth to that," Langdon added.

"For the sake of Egyptology I hope that both of you are right," she said, looking back down at the radio.

André grabbed it from her hands. "There has got to be a way to turn the volume down."

"Just don't turn it off," Indiya said. "We need to hear what's going on."

A rush a footsteps came from somewhere down the hall and another Egyptian guard passed down a hallway parallel to them. Before they could react he had seen them standing there, fumbling with the radio.

His expression signaled that he was about to yell out to other guards. André beat him to it.

"_Allez,"_ André spitted out, and he turned in the opposite direction, pushing his feet against the Egyptian Museum's marble hallways. The clacking of his shoes as he ran was matched by that of Langdon and Indiya's.

He had no idea where he was going, which made him the worst individual to lead their little scramble. He could hear the guard trotting after them. "Stop!" His accent chased them, but he was not quite fast enough, as he seemed to drop behind. No matter, however, others would certainly hear their fluster of feet.

"Turn left down this hallway," Indiya said between breaths.

André did as instructed, and found himself running down another, similar hallway. "I hope everyone knows that I don't know where I am going."

"Just turn another left at the dead end up ahead," Indiya said, a bit louder this time. André could hear her footsteps catching up with his, while Langdon's seemed to hold on just barely, his were doing the same. The dead end was just ahead, and he hoped that this next turn would be the end.

* * *

Indiya practically pushed André down the next hallway, attempting to have him move quicker. The next hallway, however, wasn't a hallway at all, as she had planned. It was a door, leading onto Cairo's streets, meant to serve as an emergency exit.

André ran into the door, pushing it slightly open. Langdon and Indiya did the rest, pressing their hands on the metal and pushing hard at the door's weight. It opened fully within seconds, and they found themselves scrambling ono the streets with everyday passer buyers.

Indiya was quick to look at the exit they had just left. No guards were stationed outside of it, highly stupid of them in her opinion.

"Which way?" Langdon asked.

"Let's go as far down this street as possible," Indiya said. "Keep up with a fast pace."

Their running slowed to a speedy walk, as they wove their way between and around tourists, habitants, and many others. They went on for several blocks, before they ran into a faster escape route.

* * *

"I've never been successful at getting an Egyptian taxi," André said, waving his hand out at the line of them.

"Let me do it," Indiya said, stepping in front of him. She raised her hand, and André watched as she eyed a specific driver. His nod to them assured that he would be able to take them to their destination which, at this point in time, was to be determined.

She opened the door and moved back, ushering with her hand for one of the two men to enter first. "I plan to sit between you two so that you don't bicker as much."

"I don't bicker," André said, taking the lead and entering the taxi. She followed, and then Langdon followed her. It was a tight fit, but they all managed to get inside.

"Where are we going?" Langdon asked, turning to the two of them. André was not particularly fond of sharing a taxi with him, or sharing this day with him at all. Was it possible that his being here really caused this newsworthy even? He was not quite, although Mike Pan was convinced.

"I don't know," Indiya said.

André took the initiative to proceed without asking the two of them if it was the best way. He leaned closer to the driver, and spoke, in shoddy Arabic, the location for a building that he had intended to visit later in the day, if this hadn't happened.

"We will go to CNN's Cario Bureau," André said, to both of them. "Without my phone, I have no way of contacting Michael ware. But from there, I will."

"And you think he will know who has or where Zahi is?" Indiya asked, staring at him with her large grey eyes. "With all do respect, he is a journalist, right? Not a member of the CIA."

"Believe me," André said, standing his ground. "He will know what we need to do next."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I apologize for not continuing this sooner. My notes and everything else on my computer was lost due to Hurricane Katrina, and therefore I had no means of continuing it until now. I read back through the entire story again, and noticed several grammar mistakes which I intend to change. I apologize if the mood has shifted slightly; I intend to pick it up again, however. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Senator Aldan Nicholl was at a foldable table, sitting on it's counterpart of a matching foldable chair. He was instructed into the room by several members of the Egyptian guard, and left alone.

Several minutes had elapsed and his mind began to wonder about many things. Had something serious happened? And most importantly: Has an American been injured or worse?

He folded his thick fingers together, and then repeated this several times, as his mind raced with the propaganda.

The Senator had seen his fair share of pain in the past. At 12:37pm on a day in September, he received a call that a terrible loss had occurred in his family.

His daughter had been working at the Pentagon for almost 3 years to the day. Melissa Nicholl was talented and young most of all. Too young, to her fathers eye, to have her life ripped from her.

He never believed it was bad timing or fate that caused her death on September 11, as she was killed by an attack of terror on the governmental building, one of many that day, but the most heart breaking to him.

Since the notice of her death, he vowed to stop the insanity that caused such a plight. He vowed that no terrorist would harm an innocent American again. By any means, he would stop them.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Cairo bureau was calm at the time of their arrival, surprising to Langdon, as he figured reporters and producers would be swarming over the story.

"You do not think they are?" The young Egyptian secretary at the desk said to him as he raised his question. "Pretty much everyone is at the ground on location. We have been feeding them the information all day. Just because it is not a circus in here does not mean the job is not getting done."

Langdon surrendered to ask no more questions of the woman. He let André take the initiative in this realm.

"It's very important that I use the phone," he said. "We are affiliates in this after all."

"And you can't go to your own bureau to do this?" She gave him a smirk and her Cleopatra eyes smiled at him. "Of course you can use the phone. Use the one at the back, it's on a table, you will see it." She pointed, and André followed her lead.

While André took care of his business, Yvette was quick to ask questions of the Egyptian woman. "Have you heard anything?"

"Not more then I am sure you already know," she said, getting back to her paper work.

"Have you heard any predicted out comes?" Yvette pushed further.

"What do you predict will happen?" Langdon continued, digging for the answer with her.

The secretary looked up at them both. "Outcomes we are almost never able to predict. That is one of many goals of such actions as these. Sometimes it could take days or weeks before the hostages are released. Sometimes it takes that long for information to be released. The same can be said for the amount of time it takes for bodies to be found."


End file.
